chesticles part deux

remember that paula cole hit, "where have all the cowboys gone?" well, replace the word 'cowboys' with 'boobies' and you have the soundtrack to my life right now. as you may remember from the last chesticles blog, i was weaning from breastfeeding and letting the girls deflate. deflate is an understatement. i cannot believe it. i am one of those girls who ends up with less up top after childbirth than what they started with. it's unbelievable too considering the lineage of huge boobs i descend from. if my mom's side of the family were cars, giant boobs would be included in the base price. as a matter of fact, my aunt had a reduction. a reduction. do you know what that means? she called and set up an appointment at a doctor's office and when they asked her what her "problem" was she answered that she had too much boobs. (i understand that sounds grammatically incorrect, but saying too many boobs would imply that she had more than two which, fortunately, was not her problem.) i cannot guarantee a lot in this life, but i know for damn sure one thing you will never see is me sitting in the waiting room at a medical facility waiting for them to remove some boob. never. i may have a mole or two removed but never a boob or two. although now i do fear that my boobs could be mistaken for moles so maybe it is possible. what i want to know is what they did with my aunts "problems?" they should have something set up like the cord blood bank system. that way if you have a family member in dire need of boobs like me, than you can have some extra genetically-similar boob laying in a safe of some sort. the only person that i really care who thinks of my girls is my husband. i have flashed t.j. approximately 73 times in the past 48 hours asking him if he can believe what he is seeing - or not seeing. "a titty is a titty" are the actual words that came out of my husband's mouth. yes. he said that. all i have to say is thank god for t.j... unlike my pre-pregnancy bras, he is very supportive of my situation.

i make crap

i can use adobe products: photoshop, illustrator and indesign. that means i spend most of my free time making pointless crap. i design crap for everything and none of that crap ever sees the light of day. if i were motivated enough, i could pimp out my crap and start a little side business. instead, i just update my brother-in-law's resume every other week for free. my favorite thing to do is make up crap logos. i give a logo and a slogan to everything we do. if me and t.j. are going to chipotle and cold stone creamery i call it "fire and ice." then i send him a crap photo attached to his email with the subject, "let's make it hot" that looks like this:kinda sexy isn't it? it's emails like these that can lead to pregnancy so i haven't sent one in a while. now that rozzy is in my world i design baby crap. the baby thing actually started before roz when my friend ashley - who makes glorious crap all day long with me - had to design a onesie for a baby shower she was going to. we decided "potty like a rock star" was punny enough to win and that was how it all started. ashley is really good at designing pointless crap, too. we make stuff all day for our 314 businesses we've decided to start. at one time we were gonna hit up the festival circuit and our slogan was going to be "bringing class to trash." what were we gonna sell? hell, we had no clue - but we had a slogan. marketing is what sells crap. look at the snuggie. it's a backwards robe that someone decided to market. i was sold and i own a snuggie. i also have a robe... i could've saved myself the cash and just put it on backwards. who knows what crap i'll be making next, but if anyone needs any type of crap that i could be of assistance with, let me know. my friend ally has already asked me to do her wedding invitations which i'm super stoked about. the theme? according to ally it is, "country shabby chic." i'm thinking something like a big bale of hay with a real shabby looking horse with the wording, "HAY, ya'll wanna come to our chic wedding?" i'm not sure if that's the direction she was going, but i think it's fabulous.

that's a lot of toilet paper

i've had cinnamon toast crunch every day for the past 3 months. why? because we bought it at costco. that means we have enough cinnamon toast crunch to get us through next september. getting a membership at a wholesale warehouse has been great since having the baby; i think i've bought diapers twice in 7 months and i have enough formula on hand to feed the gosselin kids. when you go shopping at costco you end up leaving with things you never even knew you needed till you got there. i didn't realize how much i loved pita chips till i bought 200 bags of them. of course a place like costco is a dream for an anal retentive, organized, OCD, cheapskate like t.j. he HATES change of any sort which is just one of many reasons he didn't vote for the current administration. he is perfectly ok with brushing his teeth everyday for the next 10 years with the same toothpaste - which we will be doing since we have 125 tubes of it. see, i like to live on the edge and alternate between gel and paste every other toothpaste purchase. sometimes i feel like whitening, and other times i simply want tartar control. but since costco came into our lives i have no choice but to spend my entire 30's whitening with gel. the problem with buying in bulk is if you hate something, you are stuck with it. we are gonna be eating nasty generic black refried beans till rozzy's preschool graduation because if you want some nasty generic black beans you have to buy 375 cans of them. and, as if the beans don't cause enough problems, our clothes smell like an old folks' home because we have 167 gallons of lilac garden fabric softener. it's not just groceries you can get at costco, either. you can buy batteries by the thousands, paper clips by the millions and real lambs wool house slippers by the pair. if you want drugs, they have that too. i was supposed to stop at walgreens to pick up some sudafed and forgot. while at costco i decided to see if they sold sudafed. now my sinuses are safe for the next 42 years. i could do without costco and all these risky purchases, but t.j. is hooked for life. he even upgraded to the "executive" membership. what that means is you pay and extra 40 bucks to have special bulk-buying power. this is right up t.j.'s ally. i am proud to say that my husband is now a card-carrying member of the most anal retentive, organized, OCD, cheapskate club in town.

leg lickin' freak

it started innocently enough during a sweet potato lunch. all of a sudden roz decided that having a mouthful of gerber slop was an appropriate time to sneeze. it was everywhere. including her leg. as i made snorting sounds and shouted, "mmmm... mama's gonna eat baby leg for lunch!" rozzy laughed like i've never heard her laugh before. apparently having her leg licked while making snorting sounds was the funniest thing she has ever experienced in her entire lifetime. so that was it: i snorted and licked her leg in the car, in the stroller, in her bed, on the couch, and during bath time. every single time she laughed and then i laughed at her throaty giggles. however the only thing weirder than seeing a grown person snort and lick the leg of another human being shouting, "mmm...mmm... love me some leg-bone" is seeing a grown person snort and lick someone who is not amused by it. that's what happened in check-out lane #12 at walmart. it was in that very moment when i thought i was gonna give the customers waiting behind us a real spectacular baby-giggling show that rozzy decided being licked just wasn't funny. and, judging by her why-in-the-hell-is-my-mommy-licking-my-leg face, she now hated it. i felt a little odd and my deodorant had to step it up a notch. it's amazing the things we do to make our kids happy. equally amazing is how fast they learn to make you feel like a complete moron. i'm sure that will be just the first of many looks she will give me; but i also know that will not be the last time i act like a fool in public in front of her. i cannot wait for the teenage years.

chesticles

jugs. midget ear-muffs. frost-detectors. sweater-stretchers. hooters. bee-stings. cans. whatever you call them, my boobs have become dinner table conversation. anyone close to me knows that my obsession with knockers started way before childbirth; i've always had an appreciation for a nice rack. but since rozzy came into this world, the focus on my melons has shifted. i now no longer view them as objects of desire, but i now view my tatas as 2 feed sacks dangling from my collarbones. it's amazing how having a child completely takes away any taboo when it comes to discussing mammaries. when your nips become the size of dinner-plates, you cannot help but realize that those funbags are there to serve a purpose other than being pushed up and shown off on a saturday night out on the town. now i'm gonna have to put them in a push-up just to break even. this week has been momentous and emotional for me... rozzy is now on the devil's juice - also known as formula - and this week is all about deflating the high-beams. but before the milk disappears, they will get enormous and i cannot wait. i will appreciate the engorgement that is about to ensue, as i know by this time 2 weeks from now my two dairy pillows will be more like dairy sheets blowing in the wind. t.j. keeps asking when the next kid will come. i tell him never. however, after having 2 flat hubcaps dangling around my waist for a while, i might give in just to get the godzilla lung protectors back.